The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works

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The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 119

by William Shakespeare


  115

  To give me hearing.

  CYMBELINE Ay, with all my heart,

  And lend my best attention. What’s thy name?

  IMOGEN Fidele, sir.

  CYMBELINE Thou’rt my good youth: my page

  I’ll be thy master: walk with me: speak freely.

  [Cymbeline and Imogen walk aside.]

  BELARIUS Is not this boy reviv’d from death?

  ARVIRAGUS One sand another

  120

  Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad,

  Who died, and was Fidele! What think you?

  GUIDERIUS The same dead thing alive.

  BELARIUS

  Peace, peace, see further: he eyes us not, forbear;

  Creatures may be alike: were’t he, I am sure

  125

  He would have spoke to us.

  GUIDERIUS But we see him dead.

  BELARIUS Be silent: let’s see further.

  PISANIO [aside] It is my mistress:

  Since she is living, let the time run on,

  To good, or bad.

  [Cymbeline and Imogen come forward.]

  CYMBELINE Come, stand thou by our side,

  Make thy demand aloud.

  [to Iachimo] Sir, step you forth,

  130

  Give answer to this boy, and do it freely,

  Or, by our greatness and the grace of it

  (Which is our honour) bitter torture shall

  Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him.

  IMOGEN My boon is, that this gentleman may render

  135

  Of whom he had this ring.

  POSTHUMUS [aside] What’s that to him?

  CYMBELINE That diamond upon your finger, say

  How came it yours?

  IACHIMO Thou’lt torture me to leave unspoken that

  Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.

  CYMBELINE How? me?

  140

  IACHIMO I am glad to be constrain’d to utter that

  Which torments me to conceal. By villainy

  I got this ring; ’twas Leonatus’ jewel,

  Whom thou didst banish: and – which more may

  grieve thee,

  As it doth me, – a nobler sir ne’er lived

  145

  ’Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my

  lord?

  CYMBELINE All that belongs to this.

  IACHIMO That paragon, thy daughter,

  For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits

  Quail to remember – Give me leave; I faint.

  CYMBELINE

  My daughter? what of her? Renew thy strength:

  150

  I had rather thou shouldst live, while Nature will,

  Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.

  IACHIMO Upon a time, unhappy was the clock

  That struck the hour: it was in Rome, accurst

  The mansion where: ’twas at a feast, O, would

  155

  Our viands had been poison’d (or at least

  Those which I heaved to head) the good Posthumus

  (What should I say? he was too good to be

  Where ill men were, and was the best of all

  Amongst the rar’st of good ones) sitting sadly,

  160

  Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

  For beauty, that made barren the swell’d boast

  Of him that best could speak: for feature, laming

  The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,

  Postures, beyond brief Nature. For condition,

  165

  A shop of all the qualities that man

  Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving,

  Fairness, which strikes the eye.

  CYMBELINE I stand on fire.

  Come to the matter.

  IACHIMO All too soon I shall,

  Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus,

  170

  Most like a noble lord in love and one

  That had a royal lover, took his hint,

  And (not dispraising whom we prais’d, therein

  He was as calm as virtue) he began

  His mistress’ picture, which, by his tongue, being

  made,

  175

  And then a mind put in’t, either our brags

  Were crak’d of kitchen-trulls, or his description

  Prov’d us unspeaking sots.

  CYMBELINE Nay, nay, to th’ purpose.

  IACHIMO Your daughter’s chastity (there it begins) –

  He spoke of her, as Dian had hot dreams,

  180

  And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch,

  Made scruple of his praise, and wager’d with him

  Pieces of gold, ’gainst this (which he then wore

  Upon his honour’d finger) to attain

  In suit the place of’s bed, and win this ring

  185

  By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,

  No lesser of her honour confident

  Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring,

  And would so, had it been a carbuncle

  Of Phoebus’ wheel; and might so safely, had it

  190

  Been all the worth of’s car. Away to Britain

  Post I in this design: well may you, sir,

  Remember me at court, where I was taught

  Of your chaste daughter the wide difference

  ’Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench’d

  195

  Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain

  Gan in your duller Britain operate

  Most vilely: for my vantage, excellent.

  And to be brief, my practice so prevail’d,

  That I return’d with simular proof enough

  200

  To make the noble Leonatus mad,

  By wounding his belief in her renown,

  With tokens thus, and thus: averring notes

  Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet

  (O cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks

  205

  Of secret on her person, that he could not

  But think her bond of chastity quite crack’d,

  I having ta’en the forfeit. Whereupon –

  Methinks I see him now –

  POSTHUMUS [advancing] Ay, so thou dost

  Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,

  210

  Egregious murderer, thief, any thing

  That’s due to all the villains past, in being,

  To come. O, give me cord, or knife, or poison

  Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out

  For torturers ingenious: it is I

  215

  That all th’ abhorred things o’th’ earth amend

  By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,

  That kill’d thy daughter: villain-like, I lie;

  That caus’d a lesser villain than myself,

  A sacrilegious thief, to do’t. The temple

  220

  Of Virtue was she; yea, and she herself.

  Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set

  The dogs o’th’ street to bay me: every villain

  Be call’d Posthumus Leonatus, and

  Be villainy less than ’twas. O Imogen!

  225

  My queen, my life, my wife, O Imogen,

  Imogen, Imogen!

  IMOGEN Peace, my lord, hear, hear –

  POSTHUMUS

  Shall’s have a play of this? Thou scornful page,

  There lie thy part. [Striking her: she falls.]

  PISANIO O, gentlemen, help!

  Mine and your mistress: O, my lord Posthumus!

  230

  You ne’er kill’d Imogen till now. Help, help!

  Mine honour’d lady!

  CYMBELINE Does the world go round?

  POSTHUMUS How comes these staggers on me?

  PISANIO Wake
, my mistress!

  CYMBELINE

  If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me

  To death with mortal joy.

  PISANIO How fares my mistress?

  235

  IMOGEN O, get thee from my sight,

  Thou gav’st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!

  Breathe not where princes are.

  CYMBELINE The tune of Imogen!

  PISANIO Lady,

  The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if

  240

  That box I gave you was not thought by me

  A precious thing: I had it from the queen.

  CYMBELINE New matter still.

  IMOGEN It poison’d me.

  CORNELIUS O gods!

  I left out one thing which the queen confess’d,

  Which must approve thee honest. ‘If Pisanio

  245

  Have,’ said she, ‘given his mistress that confection

  Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv’d

  As I would serve a rat.’

  CYMBELINE What’s this, Cornelius?

  CORNELIUS The queen, sir, very oft importun’d me

  To temper poisons for her, still pretending

  250

  The satisfaction of her knowledge only

  In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs

  Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose

  Was of more danger, did compound for her

  A certain stuff, which being ta’en would cease

  255

  The present power of life, but in short time

  All offices of nature should again

  Do their due functions. Have you ta’en of it?

  IMOGEN Most like I did, for I was dead.

  BELARIUS My boys,

  There was our error.

  GUIDERIUS This is sure Fidele.

  260

  IMOGEN

  Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?

  Think that you are upon a rock, and now

  Throw me again. [embracing him]

  POSTHUMUS Hang there like fruit, my soul,

  Till the tree die.

  CYMBELINE How now, my flesh, my child?

  What, mak’st thou me a dullard in this act?

  265

  Wilt thou not speak to me?

  IMOGEN [kneeling] Your blessing, sir.

  BELARIUS [to Guiderius and Arviragus]

  Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not,

  You had a motive for’t.

  CYMBELINE My tears that fall

  Prove holy water on thee; Imogen,

  Thy mother’s dead.

  IMOGEN I am sorry for’t, my lord.

  270

  CYMBELINE O, she was naught; and long of her it was

  That we meet here so strangely: but her son

  Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

  PISANIO My lord,

  Now fear is from me, I’ll speak troth. Lord Cloten,

  Upon my lady’s missing, came to me

  275

  With his sword drawn, foam’d at the mouth, and

  swore,

  If I discover’d not which way she was gone,

  It was my instant death. By accident,

  I had a feigned letter of my master’s

  Then in my pocket, which directed him

  280

  To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;

  Where, in a frenzy, in my master’s garments,

  (Which he enforc’d from me) away he posts

  With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate

  My lady’s honour: what became of him

  285

  I further know not.

  GUIDERIUS Let me end the story:

  I slew him there.

  CYMBELINE Marry, the gods forfend!

  I would not thy good deeds should from my lips

  Pluck a hard sentence: prithee, valiant youth,

  Deny’t again.

  GUIDERIUS I have spoke it, and I did it.

  290

  CYMBELINE He was a prince.

  GUIDERIUS A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me

  Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me

  With language that would make me spurn the sea,

  If it could so roar to me. I cut off’s head,

  295

  And am right glad he is not standing here

  To tell this tale of mine.

  CYMBELINE I am sorrow for thee:

  By thine own tongue thou art condemn’d, and must

  Endure our law: thou’rt dead.

  IMOGEN That headless man

 

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